At The Air Temple
by Dr. Abraxas
Summary: At the air temple, after the gang lets Zuko join, Zuko and Sokka rekindle an old, childhood friendship. AU/AR


Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**"At The Air Temple"** by **Abraxas** 2009-01-02

"Let me show you to your room, Prince Zuko," Sokka offered, exaggerating the pose of a host.

The warrior was resigned to the fact the fire-bender would be a part of the group. It was just another kind of adjustment. Like when Toph joined the group. And he treated the development as if it were not a problem.

Although, truth be told, he did not completely trust the fallen fire prince yet.

What was there to do? As they travelled with the Avatar, meeting all sorts of people, enduring all sorts of adventure, Sokka realized the only was to survive out of his comfort zone was to adapt. Zuko, once their enemy, now their friend, it was pointless resisting what seemed to be inevitable.

Zuko, amused by the antics of the tribesman, followed obediently into the passage. The large, bright atrium melted into a narrow and dismal corridor. Walking, trailing a few inches behind, he studied the features of the teenager. The ponytail - it was common among men of that nation, he recalled it, a warrior's wolf's tail. The smooth, hairless skin at the back of the neck. The ivory bone and bead necklace. The suggestion of a body cloaked by that uniform.

Across shadow and darkness, Sokka was a sight to behold

Zuko was surprised and pleased that Sokka had not changed since the last - and the first - days they met. True, the warrior was older and larger and growing, easily, into the figure of a fully grown male, yet, the person was not different. And he wondered what other traits remained.

The fire-bender listened to Sokka's voice apologizing for his friends not trusting him, for his sister not trusting him, for he not trusting him and then for all of the things they said about him.

Then Zuko got too distracted by memory to follow the conversation.

He was thinking about Sokka. About what could be seen through that passage. About what the field of view obscured. Those eyes. Those lips. Especially those lips! That itself took him into the depths of desire - when they were boys and the feel of their lips brushing their cheeks was common like breathing. The thought of being so close to a boy who was, again, so close enough to be touched stirred a longing that begged fulfillment.

Sokkie, he thought, to be kissed by your lips - like it used to be! - before the Avatar and the war and what I am guilty of.

Then a terrible realization emerged. Maybe Sokka forgot like he forgot. Zuko sighed and tried to repress that fear - it only lingered and festered. What if he more than forgot? What if he changed?

Sokka felt Zuko's eyes staring. It was a skill sharpened by years of fighting. It did not matter that the exile was looking - well - it was unsettling only because he did not know why the fire-bender would be gazing that way. Could it be that the teenager was interested?

Within the water tribe culture, men, even men with wives, were known to engage special male companionship. It was a treasured kind of friendship between warriors and nothing to be ashamed of at the least. The fire nation and its customs were such a mystery - was it possible that bonds between men were known to them?

If so it was logical - they were warriors of the same age and everything

_Impossible_! Sokka concluded - _princes and peasants and all of that_.

The warrior tried to reason out of the situation. The passage was unlit. Tight and winding. Of course he would be close. Close enough to feel his hot, frenzied breath stroking his neck? Yeah he would be watching. Watching like that?

And then the thought that Zuko would be interested caused the onset of arousal. What a sharp, little thrill snaked through his spine like a shiver! It reawakened a memory he thought about from time to time. Once, a long long time ago, he bonded with a boy. It was such a pleasant, childhood memory - only a few were like that - and it was so sweet what they shared together. He had not touched the flesh of another since that time but he wished to relive it more than remember it.

If Zuko was game, why not try it again?

A bond like that among fighters would be a way to establish trust.

Like what existed between his father and Batto.

"Well, Prince Zuko, here we go!" announced Sokka again wildly and jokingly.

The door creaked as they pushed it aside.

Within the chamber was dusty like the rest of the temple. It was a furnished room with bed, desks and chairs. Scrolls were collected onto a pile. Cool, summer breezes oozed through a window. The view was that the of twilight atop the sea.

Zuko and Sokka stood at the middle of the chamber facing sunset.

"Make yourself comfortable - breakfast will be served from seven to nine."

Zuko chuckled. Sokka was like that. And he enjoyed that sense of humor.

The warrior turned toward the fire-bender and, after what seemed like eternity trekking through that passage, the two were face to face. Then Sokka dodged Zuko's gaze, determined not to let that teenager realize he saw a blush. Yet, his evasion coupled with his thoughts - that veered into lewdness - induced his own little shade of red. It was hard to hide the effect of those feelings.

Zuko, smiling at Sokka's jitter, reached toward the warrior's hand. The tribesman hesitated, twitching at the fire-bender's fleeting, brushing contact. Then he gave into the urge

The fingers latched onto each other.

"I guess, yeah, I guess," Sokka again faced away redder and redder.

"Don't you remember me, Sokkie?" Zuko asked, tugging and squeezing the teenager's hand, drawing it toward his face. "I remember you. God, I remember you. You were my forever boy."

Sokka's jaw dropped.

"Your forever boy - you - that was you?" His eyes started, blinked. "You were the boy I met after I ran away?"

"Those watery blue eyes of yours and the way they gaze into me. Yes, it was me. It was me. Sokka, I miss those things we did when we were boys. The touch of our hands. The kiss of our lips. Your warmth and my warmth. When we were together the world did not matter."

"Those were fun times, fun times." Sokka squeezed Zuko's hand. His eyes studied the way their fingers locked. White skin and red skin zippered together. There was a beauty about the mixing. The sight of it invoked the vision of his hand stroking that boy's naked back. That boy's exposed flesh. That boy - whose name he forgot as the weight of the war settled into his life.

"All over the world, everywhere I went, I didn't find anything like this. Like this! I remember you, too, Zuko. And the way you looked at me like that. And the way you laughed at my jokes even the stupid jokes. That was love."

"Only once, when I was blinded by hate, only once I forgot you. That mistake..." Zuko's eye welled a tear. His free hand reached for Sokka's brow. His palm warmed that skin while he patted, gently and delicately, his tips brushed that hair. He did not make the connection until after that raid and when he fathomed it the shame ripped a scar into his soul. He replayed that scene again and again: he took the tribesman's weapon and smashed it against his face. What once he showered with love now he pummeled with rage. He had done it. He had done it. He hurt somebody he loved. Again the image of the fight resurfaced stoked by the contact of his flesh with the teenager's flesh. Waves of regret returned gushing like a wound reopened. "What I did to you when you were only protecting your village," he uttered through a voice broken by sobbing, "I don't deserve any kind of forgiveness. But I swear to you I will not be that kind of man. I will not treat anyone I love like that."

Sokka's free hand traced Zuko's scar as if knowing all of the torment - he touched its outline and massaged its skin.

"I understand if you don't want anything to do with me."

"Oh, you, come here," Sokka broke the ice that separated them, physically, drawing Zuko directly into his body, wrapping his arms around the teenager's shoulders.

Zuko rested his head atop Sokka's shoulder - tears wetting the flesh.

"You were just being a jerk, Zuko, I guess you're good at that." Then, squeezing tight: "This is how it ought to be with friends."

Zuko nodded, returning the tightness of that embrace.

"When I was a boy, you know, I fantasized about a warrior coming to save me - rescue me - from a home where I wasn't loved. He'd ride into my life and whisk me away. He'd protect and love me. After my mother, vanished, I waited and waited but my warrior didn't come. So I ran away and I found you. You were my warrior, Sokka."

* * *

The sun, framed by the clouds, shinned across the plain of the Antarctic. Yet, despite all of its power, the winter did not lose its bitterness. Worse still the heat of the light only stirred the wind that howled through the continent. That territory, deep into the continent, was a climate as lifeless as desert - only penguins and lynxes survived.

Inside a trench, surrounded by the songs of penguins, Sokka and Zuko reunited. They hugged so covered by coats that just their faces touched. They brushed, cheek to cheek, their breaths heating their features, their lips pecking then nudging then, momentarily, freezing.

Zuko laughed when Sokka realized they were stuck.

Sokka studied the boy. He was fascinated by those strange, beautiful eyes. Electric eyes! Everyone at the village saw through blue eyes. But the boy, with amber eyes, it was so different. It did not matter, though, the boy was a very sweet and caring friend. So his complexion was unusual. So his clothes were old, out of date, like Gran Gran's. So he spoke with accents and words he did not always understand. So what? Clearly he came from a different village with a different culture. And that was it.

Love was love, the rest were details.

They erected a tepee and built a fire inside. The boy's ability with a flame was useful. It was almost like he was a fire-bender!

Sokka and Zuko sat cross legged by the fire. The warrior revealed a square ivory box and opened it. It contained pigments, brushes and a mirror. It had been a gift from his mother and father from his twelfth birthday. The boy watched while the hunter applied the paint - gradually the colors of the wolf adorned his features.

When he finished Zuko examined the details of what Sokka painted.

"Sokkie, is it wrong to say a warrior is beautiful?" he asked.

"No." He smiled. "I think warrior stuff is beautiful stuff. Do you like it?"

"Yes, I do. I like it very much. But - I'm afraid to kiss you! I'll smear it."

Sokka laughed and hugged Zuko.

"Smear it," he begged. "ZuZu!"

Zuko's lips latched onto Sokka's lips. Hands combed the warrior's hair, teased the ponytail. Tongue probed into the hunter's mouth. Then Zuko kissed Sokka's forehead, eyes, cheeks. He kissed every last part of his face - smearing the paint into a shade of gray.

"You're my forever boy," Zuko whispered.

Sokka rubbed his face against Zuko's face then again locked lip to lip. His passion raged into a hardness whose ecstasy overwhelmed his inhibition. It was thoughtless, mindless, and he enjoyed every moment of it.

The two, clasped within each other's arms, devoured each other lips and tumbled sideways out of the tepee onto the snow.

Then, laughing, they dragged themselves inside where they painted their faces.

* * *

The remains of dinner roasted above the fire within the tepee. It crackled, blackened by flame. Most of the meat had been consumed and the rest was too burnt to attract predators.

Soon the fire would be extinguished but the boys were not afraid - they looked forward to what would be a night of complete and absolute closeness.

Sokka and Zuko sat, waiting and thinking, shoulder to shoulder, their faces painted.

"Why did you run away, Sokkie?" asked Zuko.

Sokka sighed. Looking into the fire he explained: "It's like I'm not important enough. My sister gets all of the attention. She's a water-bender and she's treated like a princess."

Zuko patted Sokka's ponytail. Swirling it with a finger.

"That's rough, kid, but I know what that's like. It's why I left too. My sister's a prodigy. My father says she was born lucky and I was lucky to be born."

They passed a moment just sitting there, like that, the fire lighting their faces. Sokka peered into the stars of the night. Zuko studied his warrior's features. Each found other worldly beauty wherever they looked.

"You'll be my warrior, won't you, Sokkie?" Sokka smiled at Zuko's question. "I know that you're special. You don't have to be a bender or anything like that. You're my only real friend, too, and there's so much I want to say..."

Sokka held Zuko's hand.

* * *

"I remember that night." Sokka tightened his grip around Zuko. He stroked up and down the teenager's back. "We shared a bed, naked, like a couple and everything. We kept each other warm - or - maybe you kept me warm with your firebending?"

Zuko kissed Sokka's cheek as if to answer and the embrace tightened further.

"Maybe firebending isn't so stupid," he teased. "Well, not when it can be that useful. Zuzu. That was my best childhood memory. So much went wrong after that. So - I always thought about what we did and what we wanted to do. I wondered who you were. Where you went. I used to go back and visit that trench then I haunted all of those places where we spent time with each other. I hoped you did that too and, maybe, we'd find each other again. But that didn't happen." Sokka's voice broke with a tear. "I feared I only dreamt you."

Zuko, his hands about Sokka's waist, looked into those wet, blue eyes.

"I didn't want to go home but I knew my father would have tracked me and I didn't want you to be hurt. Sokkie, I wanted to be with you. And live with you. Wherever you wanted to go I would have followed. I would have gone into the South Pole itself just to be with you. And I would have given up my world too. My warrior, my strong, brave warrior, you'll see I'm worthy of your love again."

"Just don't become the sun or something like that, OK?"

Zuko smirked - Sokka would have to explain that.

Sokka pressed his forehead against Zuko's forehead.

"Can you - fell me?" the tribesman asked, nervously. "I mean, do you feel anything, when I'm this close to you?"

Zuko blushed and nodded.

"You must be feeling me, too, Sokka. It's impossible to hide what I feel about you."

"Yeah, I know, life with a penis isn't easy, am I right?" Sokka joked. "Why don't you try to do something about it?"

Zuko looked unsure but Sokka's eyebrow and smirk suggested something dirty. He smiled then reached into that area, covered by loincloth, between the warrior's legs. He felt the excitement then explored it - probing its shape, tracing its outline from base to tip. It was so much thicker and bigger than he remembered. His surprise was revealed by its own wicked smile - Sokka blushed seeing and feeling his friend's reaction.

"I bet I'll be surprised by you, too, my little ZuZu," Sokka teased.

Zuko rubbed Sokka's tip, sending shivers through the teenager's body until yelps escaped lips and tears bled out of eyes.

"Let me take care of that," whispered Zuko.

The door was shut and secured by a chair. Then the two, Sokka and Zuko, stood by the bed side by side. Sokka pushed down the waist of his pants and Zuko reached into it. Digging through a jumble of underwear he located the teenager's tool and brought it out of its cover of fabric.

Sleek, smooth, red like the rest of Sokka's skin, it was the most gorgeous, most awesome thing Zuko saw. He just held it, squeezing and rubbing its length, feeling it tensing. It throbbed as if possessed by a life of its own.

Zuko kissed Sokka then wrapped his fingers around his weapon. He stroked with a rhythm gauged by the teenager's response. The quickening breath. The pounding pulse. The uttering of pained, agonized yelps. All of that impelled him to stroke harder and faster, giving Sokka's most sensitive parts that attention it deserved.

The erection seemed to dance with each and every throb almost twitching out of his grip. The head was swollen and the foreskin, slapping back and forth, could not cover it. It leaked a warm, sticky water that lubricated the shaft. It was so hard, so excited, the simplest touch caused the warrior to squirm within the fire-bender's arms.

Then Sokka begged Zuko to go faster and faster

"It's so close, I can feel it," he gasped, biting his lip. "I can feel it! I'm going to release."

"Explode, Sokka, show me what you can do now," he urged.

Zuko kissed Sokka until the warrior broke the contact with a gasp - he straightened up, twisting, as if his knees were buckling.

"You're really liking this, you're really like this," Zuko said, frantically, almost like a girl excited, while kissing Sokka's red hot cheek.

Zuko felt his hand get wet - he looked just in time to catch the sight of semen squirting through his fingers.

"That is...incredible...Sokka," Zuko gasped awed by the teenager's display of virility. The way the semen shot through his grip, into the air, even to the last, few thrusts watching it was as satisfying as orgasm.

Zuko saw Sokka shrink into a soft, limp knob of flesh that escaped out of the hold of his hand. It retreated into the underwear, slapping against the sack where it rested between two, round gonads. Zuko reached deep into those secret, forbidden places between Sokka's legs and grasped the flesh. Within a palm he held all of his friend.

Sokka raised his covers and fastened his belt yet Zuko did not let go and stood there with his hand inside his friend's pants.

"Thank you for trusting me, Sokka, thank you..."

"We can do this many, many times."

Sokka sighed, leaning into Zuko's body.

"I'll die to protect you," Zuko whispered a warrior's promise.

The warrior silenced the fire-bender with a kiss, long and frenzied.

After a while of standing there, so intimately attached, so engrossed by the zen of the act, Sokka straightened up and faced Zuko.

"There's something I'd like your help with," he said, nudging his friend's hand out of his pants. "I need to find "

It was then that Sokka noticed and recognized the footsteps.

"Quick, it's Katara, destroy the evidence!"

They separated as if panicked, looking around the battered remains of the room, guessing about what to do. Zuko shoved a table to cover those drops of semen. It looked awkward at the center of room but excuses could be manufactured. Sokka unruffled his clothes and searched for any signs of stains.

"We'll talk again, tonight," he said, kissing Zuko's cheek - then vanishing into the corridor.

Zuko shut his eyes and sighed. My warrior, he though. Happy perhaps for the first time in a long time.

**END**


End file.
